


Friends to the Death

by Sarren



Category: Crazyhead (TV)
Genre: BAMF Women, Demon Hunters, Female Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon Fix-It, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: Amy and Raquel attempt another ritual to save Suzanne





	Friends to the Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bardsley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardsley/gifts).



> Warning: brief description of animal harm (for food)
> 
> Thank you to my beta reader TexasDreamer01 for stepping up to fix all my SPaG in an unknown canon.

“Have you got all the ingredients?”

“Everything but the monkey jizz.”

“Good luck with that. You know I’d do anything for you, plus I sort of owe you a bit for her dying in the first place, but if I get busted breaking into the zoo, guaranteed they’d section me, so.”

“You and me both, luckily I know someone who’s happy to.”

“By someone you mean Jake, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s such a perv.”

Amy shrugged. “We’re all a bit weird, remember?”

“There’s a bit weird, then there’s next level ‘wiping our arse with meat’ weird.”

“Fair enough.”

They both glanced over to the corner of the basement room where Suzanne crouched, gnawing on Fluffy—at least, Amy thought that’s what its name was. That’s what it sounded like when they’d left its young owner calling futilely for it as the two of them legged it away, the wriggling rabbit clutched to Raquel’s chest. It wasn’t wriggling now. Now it hung lifeless in Suzanne’s bloody claw-like grasp, its white fur ripped and matted and red.

Amy winced and glanced away from its dead, accusing eyes. She wished she didn’t know its name. Didn’t know it had an owner that cared about it, would miss it, would wonder what had become of it. Knowing that made it harder to throw it to the revenant, especially when it struggled violently in her arms, seeming to sense its imminent hideous death. Perhaps it was the faint (to human senses) odour of dead thing that Suzanne gave off. Or perhaps it was the way she’d growled and hissed and flailed towards it when they got close enough to throw it to her.

Suzanne tossed the mangled remains of the bunny corpse aside and stood up, the chains attached to her wrists clanking, the red light fading from her eyes as she focused on them. “Thanks,” she said. “You know, you could have just brought me a bottle of blood now.”

“Now you tell us!” Raquel said, folding her arms across her chest and glaring.

“What, like an actual vampire?” Amy exclaimed at the same time.

Suzanne pouted. “I didn’t get a chance, did I?” she said, starting to comb the tangles out of her hair with her bloody fingers. “After you threw a bloody great tarpaulin over me and dumped me in here and left me for days, what did you expect?”

Amy put her hands on her hips. “You think we’d do that to you?” she asked indignantly.

“You’ve done it before!”

“When you were possessed!”

Raquel’s glare could stop a demon in its tracks across a crowded pub (and had). “We didn’t even know you were alive!” She gestured vaguely up and down Suzanne’s body. “Or whatever you are. You weren’t exactly in a state of mind to discuss your culinary preferences.”

“Then how did I get here?”

“A demon we were about to arse-pole apparently valued his human life more than his loyalty to his demon pals. You’d been seen—stalking us, apparently—and they’d decided that capturing you would give them leverage over us.”

“’Cos that worked out so well for them last time.”

“Didn’t exactly work out well for us, either.” Amy felt her righteous indignation drain out of her at the sight of Suzanne’s neck. She gestured awkwardly towards the ugly jagged scar that went all the way around it. It had perpendicular lines at intervals as though giant staples had been used to—Amy had seen a lot of weird shit since she’d taken up demon hunting full time, but this just about broke the believability scale—reattach her decapitated head back onto her body. Which had somehow started to heal over. Nothing she or Raquel had been able to find on the internet about revenants had even hinted that such a thing was possible. Possibly because the correct procedure for putting revenants down was by incinerating them. Nothing in the research mentioned that if you didn’t actually do that step their reanimated bodies continued to, well, animate.

Raquel crossed her arms, looking defensive. “By the time we got here and arse-poled the two demons guarding you, you weren’t exactly compost mentos.”

“What?”

“It’s Latin,” Raquel explained, in the sing song slightly condescending tone she got when she got to show off her advanced knowledge of supernatural shit. “It means when you can think properly and not try to gnaw people to death.” She shrugged largely. “So, sadly, Mr Flopsy had to pay the ultimate price.”

Mr Flopsy, that was it. They really should replace that kid’s pet. All white bunnies looked alike, right? Maybe she wouldn’t even notice the difference.

“So what happens now?” Suzanne was picking at her blood-caked nails in an absent-minded way, but her eyes flickered from Raquel to Amy watchfully.

“We’ve found a cure!” Amy said, nearly bouncing on her heels in glee.

Suzanne looked disappointing unimpressed. “Really.”

“Yes of course, we—”

“Possibly,” Raquel interrupted loudly, staring at Amy with her eyebrows raised.

Amy stared back.

“Probably,” Raquel conceded, “we think it’ll work, but then—”

“—but then, you thought you could exorcise a demon by weeing on me,” Suzanne pointed out.

“Actually, that does work, as it turns out. Did it to Jake. Still not sure what went wrong with you.”

Suzanne had been staring at them under from under lowered brows, but at that her lips twitched, and her expression lightened. “I bet Jake loved that.”

Amy grinned. “He did.”

“Speaking of Jake, we’re nearly ready to fix you. We’re just waiting on him to bring the monkey jizz.”

Suzanne blinked. “O-kay,” she drawled. “How’s he going to get that?”

“Probably best not to ask,” Amy said.

Raquel nodded. “Or try to picture.”

Amy sighed. “You had to say that. It’s like pink elephants.”

“Like pink elephants if they were wanking a monkey, mean.”

“Ew.”

Suzanne seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. She was looking down at the chains around her wrists, twisting them so that the areas that had been chafed bloody during her days of crazed writhing were clearly visible.

Amy felt sick looking at them. “We can take them off,” she said. “One of the dead guys had the keys on him.”

“Thank you,” Suzanne said, flexing her hands in a disturbingly claw-like way.

“Only if you promise not to go all ‘grrrr arrggh grrr’ on us again,” Raquel said brightly, holding out her arms and zombie lurching a couple of steps.

“Raquel!”

Raquel grinned. “Too soon?”

 

 

“Here we go, one magic ingredient, acquired by yours truly, as promised.”

Jake was holding out an old jam jar. The label was ragged at the edges and so faded only the pinkish colour even suggested it had once held some kind of berry preserve.

Amy took it gingerly. There was something there, looked like the right colour, more or less but other than that… Amy shook the jar gently, just enough to stir the contents. The stuff wobbled—it looked gelatinous, almost jelly-like. “What is this?”

“What you asked for.”

“This…this is monkey semen?”

“Yep.”

Amy tilted the jar and the stuff slid sideways. “Is it supposed to look like this?”

“Don’t know what to tell you.” Jake shrugged. “It looked right when the monkey jizzed into the jar.”

“It jizzed into the jar? How’d you get it to do that?”

“Quite easily, actually. Turns out that expression, ‘monkey see, monkey do’? Surprisingly accurate.”

“So you…?”

“For the cause,” Jake said, nobly. “Speaking of which, I do have this other jar—”

“NO,” Amy said, quite forcefully. If she wasn’t firm with Jake he inevitably failed to recognise boundaries, good taste, or shame.

“Alright, keep your hair on.” Jake glanced over at Suzanne. “Or in some cases, I suppose I should say, keep your head on.” He waved awkwardly. “Hello, Suzanne.”

“Hello, Sir Wanks Alone,” Suzanne said. She grinned at Jake and her smile was full of teeth. He flinched and shuffled backwards till he was standing behind Amy.

“Right, then, who’s coming?” Raquel asked, taking hold of the Tesco’s shopping bag that contained the rest of the hastily acquired ritual ingredients. She slung it over her shoulder as offhandedly as if it didn’t contain glass jars of saltpetre and sulphur scavenged from Jake’s Grandad’s shedful of old fireworks.

Suzanne hesitated. “Does it have to be the woods again?” she asked, “I don’t exactly have fond memories of waking up there.”

“Not to worry,” Raquel said cheerfully. “Even if everything goes balls up like last time, we won’t leave you there again.”

“What?”

Raquel put a hand on her shoulder that was probably meant to be reassuring, although Suzanne looked like she wanted to knock it off. Raquel looked deeply into her eyes. “We promise that if you go all off the chain homicidal again, or turn into something even worse, we will take you out in a heartbeat.”

“That’s not actually reassuring, you know.”

Raquel let her hand fall from Suzanne’s shoulder as she stepped back, pursing her lips. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

 

 

“Shit, we forgot the chicken bones.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

“Is that—”

“Why do you think I got us KFC for dinner last night?”

“Because it’s finger licking good?”

“What?”

“Never mind, something my Dad used to say when he’d bring takeaway home. It’s an old saying or something.”

They stepped back and surveyed their work. Amy held up the phone so they could compare it with the picture on the webpage. Raquel tilted her head slightly, then shrugged. “Looks about right?” she said, sounding slightly doubtful.

They’d arranged the explosive shit very carefully around the edges of the circle as per the instructions on the website. Suzanne was sat inside it, eyeing the tiki torches set on either side warily. Amy couldn’t blame her. The chicken bones and other random shit that Amy had never heard of that the ritual had called for, and that a friend of a Raquel’s dead demon dad had acquired for them, were laid around her according to the diagram helpfully provided.

At least the possibility of being accidentally blown to pieces had taken Suzanne’s mind off the fact that she was naked and sticky all over with the potion they’d made from the monkey semen mixed with wormwood, lavender, and most weirdly of all, crushed up crisps. The instructions had actually called for ‘finely gratede Eire potatoe’ but Tesco hadn’t had any of those so they’d improvised with packets of Tayto’s cheese and onion flavour. The firelight flickering over the white flecks stuck to Suzanne’s glistening skin gave the impression that her greyish skin was starting to peel. Like she was rotting away.

Amy swallowed down the sick bile in her throat. “I think that’s all,” she croaked.

Raquel punched her lightly (for her) in the arm and Amy looked at her. Raquel met her eyes and nodded slowly, seriously. “Time to break out the Latin.”

 

 

“Is this normal?”

“For Suzanne? More or less?”

Her best friend was perched on a bar stool, sipping Long Island Iced Tea, looking gorgeous and elegant, in other words, her old (human) self. Nothing like the screaming, writhing creature who’d spit curses at them as they intoned the Latin incantation. Amy had instinctively stumbled back as the revenant had launched herself, claws extended, snarling, nearly dropping her phone. 

But the circle had held and Suzanne had been flung backwards, rebounded from the invisible barrier to lie panting on the floor. Eventually she’d lain still, eyes darting under closed lids as they chanted the words of the ritual. The grey had faded from her skin and with it the jagged decapitation scar, until only a fine, pale line remained.

Suzanne had been sitting on that bar stool for over an hour as man after man (and two women, one of whom didn’t even look like a lesbian) tried to chat her up. Amy frowned. Come to think of it, that was at least the sixth cocktail that Suzanne was on. Normally she’d be swaying by now—if she hadn’t already left with the hottest guy in the club. She could feel worry start to gnaw at her stomach, even though it seemed silly, given that Suzanne seemed fine—more than fine, even.

The fit-looking bloke with her now seemed to think he was in with a chance, even though Suzanne’s expression wasn’t giving much away as she sipped her drink and occasionally nodded at something he was saying. As Amy watched, he put his hand on Suzanne’s arm and slid off of his bar stool, clearly intending that she go with him. For a moment Suzanne’s brow creased and it looked like she wasn’t going to, but then her expression cleared and she allowed herself to be towed towards the exit.

Amy sat back in her comfy lounge chair and picked up her beer, reassured, and then put it down again when she realised Suzanne wasn't going to stop by for her usual check-in. She glanced towards where they were about to exit just as the fitness freak turned his head. Lights sparkled in his distorted demonic features.

“Fuck!” Amy grabbed her bag and launched herself after them, ruthlessly pushing and elbowing people out of her way as she went, confident that Raquel would be right behind her, no questions asked. They were a team.

She had her arse-pole out of her bag and raised to strike even as she burst out of the door. There was no one in sight. Amy looked around wildly, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t lose her best friend again. She just couldn’t. Amy was just about to call out Suzanne’s name when she heard a scuffling noise from the alley beside the club. 

Amy belted around the corner, ready to strike, only to be greeted by the sight of the demon pinned high against the wall, his Nikes barely brushing the ground as he scrabbled to kick out at…

“Suzanne!”

Suzanne turned her head to look at her. She didn’t seem to have turned back into a monster. She looked like a perfectly normal human. Except for how she was holding a 15 stone male off the ground with one hand and with no apparent effort on her part.

Amy lowered her weapon. “What’s going on?” she asked, proud of how even her tone was.

“He’s a demon.”

“Yes, I got that, thanks. I mean…”

The demon made a sort of growly gurgling sound. Possibly trying to mention that it was difficult to breathe when someone was holding you off the ground with their hand wrapped around your throat.

Suzanne turned back to look up at the demon. He stared down at her and tried to speak again, his feet kicking with renewed effort as his voice gargled and he made choking noises. Still with no apparent effort on her part, Suzanne flung him in Amy’s direction. He landed hard and there was a crunching sound as though he’d broken something important. “All yours,” Suzanne said, but Amy couldn’t be bothered right now, and stepped over the groaning man to get to her best friend, who was lighting up a cigarette as casually as if she were still sitting at the bar.

Behind her, she heard a familiar grunt of effort as Raquel took care of business and the resulting extended scream of outrage as the demon exited the body. She didn’t look back.

Suzanne took a long drag and way too nonchalantly exhaled the stream of smoke upwards into the air.

“Give me that,” Amy said and took a long, fortifying drag.

Suzanne looked at her. “Drink?”

“God, yes.”

 

“What are you?” Raquel demanded, once they were all sat in the comfy chairs in the corner by the fire. Raquel had scored them by forcibly lifting the people that were already occupying them out of their seats and yelling abuse at them until they went away.

Suzanne took a sip of her piña colada. “I’m me.”

“You’re not human.”

“Not to get all metaphysical, but what is human, really?”

“Metaphysical, my arse. It’s not being able to toss people about like feathers, for a start.”

Amy leaned forward. “Actually, not sure you can toss fea—”

Raquel glared at her. Right, not the point.

Raquel sat forward in her seat, eyeing Suzanne up and down in an assessing way that Amy found uncomfortable. Suzanne didn’t seem bothered. “And being able to see demons now.”

“You’re like a demon hunter on steroids,” Amy pointed out brightly.

Suzanne shook her head. “I can’t see them.”

Raquel snorted. “All evidence to the contrary.”

“I can smell them, okay? When I was… before… it was like all my senses were turned up. I could smell blood blocks away.” Suzanne shrugged one shoulder, seeming to hunch in on herself. “Now it’s like everything’s still enhanced, just not as much as before.”

“Demons smell like blood to you?” Amy asked.

“No, not blood, but different. Evil.”

“Evil,” Raquel repeated, tilting her head. “What does evil smell like?”

“Sort of metallic, actually, and rotten eggs.”

“Sulphur,” Amy said.

Raquel shrugged. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Can you smell us too?”

“Of course.”

“What do we smell like to you?”

“Well, _you_ smell like Tyler, mostly.”

Amy could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She and Tyler had indulged in what some people might consider quite kinky sex last night and she hadn’t had time to shower. She finished off the fruity cocktail Jake had brought her and picked up Jake’s half full one. She gulped it down and wiped her hand over her mouth.

“Oi,” Jake said. Amy ignored him.

Suzanne didn’t seem bothered by Amy’s apparent sexcapade odour though. She glanced over at where Raquel was absentmindedly stroking her arse-pole. “Raquel: like rage and determination. And chocolate.”

Raquel nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”

Jake put his hand up. “Go on, what about me?”

Suzanne’s nose wrinkled. “Meat, mostly.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “In a sexy, makes you want to harmlessly nibble me all over sort of way?” he asked hopefully.

“No.”

Raquel pushed her weapon closed and tucked it away in her jacket. “Anything else we should know about?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“She said so, didn’t she?” Amy snapped. She supposed she couldn’t blame Raquel for her doubts. She didn’t know Suzanne like Amy did.

Raquel glared at her. “Just because she’s your gal pal I’m not going to risk our lives—”

Jake stood up abruptly and then swayed lightly. He definitely wasn’t fit to drive home; they none of them were. Except Suzanne, maybe. She still looked dead sober. Dead sober, ha. 

“I’ll get the next round,” Jake said, swaying slightly as he turned. He headed off towards the bar and was out of sight behind other punters in seconds.

“Look, I just want to be sure,” Raquel said, as though they hadn’t been interrupted.

“Or what? You’ll kill her again.”

“No, I couldn’t give a donkey’s bollocks what she is as long as she doesn’t eat people.”

“Then what’s with the third degree?”

“If she’s going to be one of us—”

“One of us?” Amy’s felt her heart beating faster with anticipation. Of course; it was _perfect._

“Well, duh. I don’t want to waste talent like this.”

“What if I don’t want to be a demon hunter?” Suzanne said, sitting back and crossing her legs.

Raquel stared at her blankly, as if she couldn’t comprehend the idea that someone might not choose to spend their time chasing demons violently and painfully back to hell.

“C’mon,” Amy wheedled, falling back against the soft cushions next to her friend and slinging her arm around her shoulders, not without difficulty until Suzanne finally sat forward just enough for her arm to fit. Amy gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Come and arse-pole demons with us.”

“You know, now that there’s so many of them, this is practically going to be a full time job,” Suzanne pointed out.

“Then why don’t we make it one,” Amy said, excitement kindling in her as the idea took hold. “We could advertise—discreetly—”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “What, like, ‘does your girlfriend have a frosty snatch?’ Call us now!”

“Okay, maybe not. But we could reach out to people on social media who seem to be having demon-related problems.”

“And offer to take care of their loved one permanently, for money. Yeah, I can’t see that one going terribly, horribly wrong at all.”

“Fair point. Still, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Raquel grinned. “We need a name,” she said. “How about ‘Demonbusters’, in a red circle with a line through a fuck-ugly demon face?”

“Bit derivative?”

“Of what?”

“Ghostbusters?”

“That old film with pasty white guys?” Raquel’s brow creased as she thought about it. “No one remembers that.”

“Have you been living in an alternate dimension or something? Also, there was an awesome all female remake a few years ago.”

“I don’t watch a lot of telly.”

“How about ‘Demonfuckers’?” Jake said, as he slid their fresh drinks onto the table in front of them.

They all stared at him. “What?” he said, looking around at them. “Because we fuck demons up?”

“So technically it would be ‘demonfucker-ups’ then,” Amy pointed out. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Also, still not sure it really conveys the message we’re after?”

“Also, what’s this ‘we’?” Raquel demanded.

Jake looked injured. “I helped.”

Amy patted his arm. “You helped a lot.”

“You can be our pretty but dumb secretary,” Suzanne suggested, leaning forward to replace her empty glass with a bright purple cocktail Amy didn’t recognise. She picked up a second one and held it out. Amy sat forward and took it a bit reluctantly—she didn’t have the inhuman tolerance for alcohol Suzanne apparently now had.

“I’d resent that except you’re comparing me to Chris Hemsworth, so I’ll take it.” Jake squashed in next to her on the corner of the sofa.

Amy grinned at her friend. “You’re in?”

Suzanne shrugged. “Who knows what sort of trouble you’d get into without me.”

“We don’t have to decide on a name right now, anyway.” Amy held out her glass. “To kicking demon arse.” Suzanne and Jake leaned into her on either side to touch their glasses to hers.

“Hell yeah, we’re a kickass demon hunting team,” Raquel said, leaning over the table to click her glass against theirs, hard enough that liquid sloshed over the edges of all their glasses. “This is going to be fucking epic!”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes
> 
> \- I'm not British so I'd be grateful if anyone feels an urge to point out any non-British words or turns of phrase (I'm sarren on DW/LJ if you'd rather dm me)
> 
> \- I did actually briefly google monkey semen and found an academic article (because of course I did) which described the colour and texture, so yeah.
> 
> \- Also discovered that apparently there are two Irish brands of crisps, and they both just do cheese and onion or salt and vinegar. They have to import other flavours! 
> 
> The things you learn when doing minimal fact checks for fic writing :)


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